


A Second Skin

by AugustStories



Series: The Alphabet [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Loss of Identity, Russian Agents - Freeform, Secret Identity, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 17:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19856140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugustStories/pseuds/AugustStories
Summary: She had only one chance to get out of this with her head still attached to her neck and it meant becoming someone she hadn't been in such a long time.Herself.





	A Second Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Another little original thing that gets posted as part of my "post it if finished" agenda for this year
> 
> This is just something that I wrote because the idea was there, so far it hasn't gone anywhere else and I just want to post it to maybe get a like or feedback on it

It was the beginning of February when her life went down the frozen drain of Russia in the depth of a harsh winter. Moscow felt like a single block of ice as Anastasija Nikolaijeva Laserova stared at the display of her phone that had just a second ago gone completely dead, her heart continuing to beat regularly by sheer force of will alone. Her breathing didn't give anything away of the panic and the utter terror her mind went through in those ten seconds of realizing that her life had just been declared worthless.

Ten seconds.

That was all she gave herself to be too stunned to act or move, no second more, no second less. Ten seconds to question everything she had ever believed in before pure survival instinct kicked in. 

The phone went flying into the waste bin at the corner of the street as she walked down towards the metro station entrance, black heels clicking on the frozen ground. The sound echoed loudly as she stepped down the stairs to get underground, passing by groups of teenagers hanging out and sharing cigarettes. Some of the boys whistled after her, going so far as to call for her to drop her coat and some other pieces of clothing.

Anastasija let her lips curl up into a fake little coy smile and looked over her shoulder at them, winking for all intents and purposes. The boys cheered and howlered, fully ignoring the girls their age who looked completely disgusted at their behavior. Down in the metro station she skillfully sidestepped the approaching mass of people coming home on the busy lines going out of the city center now where it was after six.

She slipped into the first public women's restroom on the right and immediately ducked her head low to not let the security camera by the door catch her face. Once the door of the cubicle was closed and locked, she pulled the hat off, blond wig right along with it. She stuffed both into the small wastebin while her natural red hair was still pinned up before pushing the toilet lid down and setting her bag onto it.

She freed her hair from its constraints and grimaced when she felt it bounce against her back in those wild unruly curls she hated so much. The black glasses followed the hairpins into the bin. She opened her bag and grabbed her contact lenses first, better see clearly before touching that make-up, least she drew attention to her because she had only gotten rid of one set of fake eyelashes. Contacts successfully set in and her eyesight adjusted again, she reached for wet wipes and the hand mirror, methodically cleaning her face and revealing her true self under all that chemical facade.

If there still could be a true self after all the lies.

All the games and all the tricks.

She threw more stuff into the waste bin, on some morose level it was almost hilarious. Watching a part of her life being dumped into the trash in a public rest room in one of Moscow's not really glamorous parts. Emphasis on almost. She hadn't felt less desire to laugh since the day Nikolaij had called her brother from America and told them the house was theirs. Just like back then, there wasn't an ounce of sadness over the situation she found herself in, just anger. Blind raging anger that only her training and years of having to deal with Nikolaij's utter lack of proper parental behavior were able to keep down.

She had given everything for her country. Everything. 

And in return Mother Russia had written her off as worthless.

Because of one tiny step out of line made two years ago.

Nikolaij got to do whatever he wanted, flee to America even, conspire with the enemy, but god behold he may be punished for it when they had his daughter to ride out their random acts of keeping the agency in line. Ridiculous.

She huffed and pulled her hair up into a ponytail, strict out of her face, a style she hadn't worn since S... since someone she had once cared very much about had learned to read her too well in too little time. She shrugged off her coat and took off her dress, leaving the white jeans on. She turned the coat inside out, happy about Natalia's creation even if Natalia was sure as hell dead to her now.

So dead.

Right along with the entire fucking agency.

A flipped up knife from the bag made short progress of her dress and turned it into a shirt, leaving her to drop the remains into the trash. The knife with the official KGB symbol on the handle disappeared into the toilet tank, as if she still cared about official agency weapons falling into the hands of civilians.

Why the fuck would she still care after they had dropped her like a grown out shoe just 20 hours after the French had once more called for her arrest. 

She pulled her now shirt turned dress on again and then the coat over it, grabbed her bag, flushed the toilet for sheer show and walked out of the cubicle. She set the bag onto the disgusting board next to the sink and washed her hands, absolutely refusing to look at herself in the grimy sprayed over mirror. 

When your cover got blown and your mission burned, you laid low.

When your agency, your government and your entire fucking country disavowed you, you went home.

Right now she had only one chance to get out of this with her head still attached to her neck and it meant becoming someone she hadn't been in such a long time.

Herself.


End file.
